Entre la foi et la raison, le cœur
by Silfariel
Summary: An old friend of Count Dracula discovers that he is not dead, but at the service of the Hellsing organization. Fearing for him, she will try anything to release him from his forced service. Even if it means getting entangled with both old enemies and new friends...
1. Prologue

**_Hey there! Welcome to my first Hellsing fanfic!  
Before you start reading, you must know that I am French, so if I happened to butcher Shakespeare's beautiful language somewhere, please let me know, I'll correct. Also, that's probably the reason why you'll find random bits of French here and there.  
Enjoy! :)_**

* * *

 _Monday the 23th of July:_

Father Andrea Shaymoore was getting pissed. Like in, really pissed. Probably the fault of the leaders of the very ancient, venerable, righteous, and so on Section XIII of the Vatican. Seriously, who had thought it was a good idea to send a former inhabitant of a tiny little country village chasing a vampire in the labyrinth that was Paris? He couldn't even take the metro without fucking it up!

The half Italian priest introduced his little ticket in the machine for the fifth time in a row, before waiting a few seconds and trying to push past the plastic door that blocked his way... only to fail miserably. It wouldn't budge. What a disgrace, an elite vampire hunter stopped by something so insignificant. Behind him, discontent people were beginning to pile up, adding extra stress to the situation.

Suddenly, he was pushed aside with an amount of strength that was quite surprising, certainly coming from a young brunette a head shorter than him. After flashing him an exasperated glance from behind her nearly opaque sunglasses, she snatched Andrea's last remaining ticket out of his hand and introduced it into the machine, before pushing the priest through the now opened door. By an incredible magic feat, this time it worked!

"Alors, vous voyez, ce n'est pas si dûr quand-même!"

The clear voice made him jump and turn around. The young woman had now joined him. Andrea frowned. There was really something amiss with her. Outside, it was full summer. The sun shined brightly and the temperature was really high, which, in combination with the usual pollution, created a rather suffocating atmosphere. But, despite the climatic conditions, the woman was wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, a woolen trench coat and even black leather gloves! If one began adding up the elements, there were nearly no doubts: this was a vampire. Maybe even the one he was supposed to find, because she seemed to fit the description. All remaining doubts vanished when she let him see a grin full of pointy teeth.

"Quoi, vous avez perdu votre langue?"

He tried to come up with a witty answer, but his knowledge of the 'langue de Molière' was too limited, so he settled for a heavily accented "Euh, oui, euh, merci pour votre aide...".

He cursed himself for seeming like an idiot, but she just grinned (again). Before answering in English. And what she said was quite... interesting, really.

"Ah, I see, you don't seem to speak French, do you? Well, anyway, I'm going to accompany you for a little while. We need to speak. And by the way, I'm the one you were ordered to find."

* * *

"Alors, vous voyez, ce n'est pas si dûr quand-même!" - "So, it wasn't that hard, was it?"  
"Quoi, vous avez perdu votre langue?" - "What, did you lose your tongue?"


	2. On a sunny summer afternoon

**Hey again! I know there's not much happening in this first chapter, but think of it as a kind of introduction to get to know the main character a little bit before starting with the real stuff. ;)  
Also, please pay attention to the fact that this chapter happens approximately a month before the prologue (just in case some people miss the date at the top). Thanks and enjoy! :)**

* * *

 _The 18th of June:_

"Wake up, sunshine! It's afternoooon!"

In a very, very remote corner of her mind, Clémence was vaguely aware of the irritatingly cheery voice chanting those words with a melodious Spanish accent. She moaned slightly in her sleep, curling up more tightly against one side of her coffin in a vain attempt to protect herself from the sudden invasion of sunlight.

"Wake uuuup!" The voice had become more insistent, almost a childish whining, leaving Clémence no choice but to open her eyes. She blinked a few times while her mind slowly crept back from the comfy cloud of sleepiness where it had been lying. The lid of her coffin had been removed, letting in the bright afternoon sun that was barely filtered by the closed curtains. Her Spanish flatmate, a lively girl going by the name of Amalia, was looming over her with a big, bright smile.

"Amalia, why the hell did you have to wake me at such an ungodly hour?"

"Oooh, don't be so grumpy about it! It's just that I have to be sure that I'm perfect today! And... I also need support from the best friend I ever, ever had!"

Amalia was now looking at her with such a silly hopeful smile that the vampiress couldn't help but crack out a smile of her own. She had just remembered that today, her friend had to go to Paris' business district, La Défense, for a job interview. She had been so horribly nervous about it for a whole week, and now was the big day.

The Spanish girl excitedly jumped around to show herself off from all sides.

"And, how am I? Please be honest!"

"Amalia, you know that you are just gorgeous! And you really look very professional in that outfit. You'll see, you won't have any problems to get that job."

What Clémence had said was true. Amalia always looked perfect, with her caramel colored skin, dark eyes and thick black hair. But today, she looked even better than was usual. Her hair was held in a voluminous bun, and she was wearing a white shirt with an elegant black jacket and a pencil skirt. Her high heels also did nothing to spoil the picture. Clémence stifled a little sigh of envy. Of course, being a centuries old vampire and all, she was very beautiful herself. But Amalia's beauty was lively and energetic, bright as the sun. The vampiress had more of a classic kind of beauty, with an ivory pale skin, slightly wavy golden brown hair and big hazel eyes with long lashes. In her opinion, that was all deadly boring and just managed to give her the appearance of a fragile porcelain doll. Which she was very, very far from being.

Extracting herself from her thoughts, she slowly stood up before stretching out until a satisfying _pop_ came from her back. The blue silk of her knee-length nightgown (daygown?) rustled when she walked to the closet.

"I guess there's no point in trying to get any more sleep today, since you'll take care of waking me every five minutes with your update texts?"

"Aaah, my dear, you're guessing right as always!"

Clémence glanced at the alarm clock on the night table. 15:36, it said. She let out a massive sigh and opened the closet doors. Looking quickly at the various pieces of clothing on hangers, Clémence finally selected a navy blue blouse and black pants. She snatched her usual black trench, hat and gloves from the coat rack and picked up a bit of money before following Amalia out of the door.

 **...**

They were walking along one of the French capital's long, broad boulevards, lined with the typical buildings in Haussmann style. When they neared the station where Amalia would take the métro to get to her appointment, Clémence decided she would now go her own way. She stopped and took the Spanish girl's hands in her own, pressing down lightly.

"I'll be leaving you now. Don't worry too much, I know you're more than capable of getting that job!"

Amalia's face lighted up with a bright smile.

"Thank you Clem!"

With that, she embraced her friend before turning around vividly, causing the yellow fabric of her dress to move dramatically around her tan legs. Clémence smiled at her flatmates' energy before walking in the opposite way. She had decided to wait for the texts Amalia would inevitably send her in her favorite coffee shop (because yes, one of the few human drinks she consumed was coffee). She was lucky, it was situated just around the corner. She began walking to her destination in her usual brisk pace.

Clémence couldn't help but think fondly of Amalia's sunny personality. She was really lucky to have found someone like her, who was ready to accept a vampire living with her, coffin, blood drinking and all. Of course, there were also quite a few misunderstandings, born from the substantial differences between a girl from the twentieth century and an antiquity like Clémence, who dated back from the eighteenth century.

The vampiress' inner musings were interrupted by the facade of the coffee shop rising up just before her. She pushed the door open. The interior was agreeable and luxurious, an impression reinforced by the walls and floor covered in rich dark wood. The tables were neatly polished and the seats were covered in soft velvet cushions. The most special feature of the establishment, however, was the ceiling: it was made of glass in warm shades of yellow and orange, representing intricate 'Art Nouveau' motives of flowers and birds. At this hour, not many customers were there. A couple of Japanese tourists with a young child were sitting at a table near the window. In a dark corner, two strongly built men wearing cassocks sipped on their cups of cappuccino. Her eyes immediately locked with theirs, but not before she had registered the number XIII engraved in the silver crosses hanging at their necks.

Her face turned even more ashen than before. She had a really, really bad feeling about this...

* * *

 **You know, the coffee shop at the end is based off an actual restaurant where I ate when I was in Paris once. I mean, they really have the nicest and most special places in that city... If you ever go there, don't just go to the Mc Donalds (like many people I know) but really try out the little restaurants. You never know what surprises you can find...**


	3. How to avoid a fight (or not)

Forcing herself to calm down, Clémence took a deep, technically unnecessary breath. She walked into the coffee shop with as much self-confidence as she could muster, knowing she had already commited a mistake by staying petrified at the door for so long. Now, she would have to ease the priests suspicion by acting as much as a 'normal' human as she could. Their heavy gazes were weighing on her while she advanced towards the counter, shedding her hat, coat, glasses and gloves in the process. She tried not to cringe too much when the now unhindered rays of the sun hit her. She could bear the sunlight without turning into a little pile of ash, but that didn't mean she was insensible to it.

The vampiress ordered a simple cup of black coffee before selecting a table. She didn't choose one that was directly situated next to a window, but she did have enough sense to avoid the dark corners. Nibbling on a piece of cake, she mimicked a relaxed pause, legs stretched out and body relaxed, but still ready to react should they try something. The rich, bitter flavour of the coffee washed out the ashen taste the pastry had left in her mouth.

Clémence knew this was a dangerous course of action, since they could decide at any moment to question her. If they were experienced, they had probably identified her as a vampire the moment she had stepped inside. But turning around would immediately have branded her as 'prey'. She knew from personal experience that Iscariot was nothing if not persistant and that they would surely track her down if she didn't manage to appease their wariness. No, scratch that, they would probably follow her anyway. They were that paranoid. Her best chance would be to walk back home by the most crowded boulevards. That way, she might be able to loose them in the flow of tourists that invaded the city during the summer. The other advantage was that she would be relatively safe, since they couldn't very well start a fight against an immortal being in the middle of a crowd. And, even if it came to a real confrontation, she had a reasonable chance to make it out alive (or as alive as she would ever be). While she might not be as strong as her sire, the almighty Dracula, she was still strong enough to hold her own against a couple of priests. And, as she had already encountered Iscariot so often, she already knew their methods by heart. After all, those hadn't really changed since centuries.

She looked up at them again. The blonde one with the green eyes was literally trying to stake her with his gaze as only weapon. That one was clearly not fooled by her pretense. The other one, who had messy brown hair, had already paid and seemed ready to leave. He was speaking animatedly to his colleague, trying to talk him into returning to the hotel. The blonde finally surrendered, and with a last glance towards her, they left. Clémence grinned. She knew it was only a farce. They would probably ambush her at the first occasion. Her phone vibrated inside of her pocket. Amalia had sent her a new text.

 **...**

Clémence had stayed in the coffee shop for the best part of an hour before leaving. She took her time to scan her surroundings, trying to locate the Vatican priests. Her intuition was confirmed: they were indeed following her, one on each side, ready to attack when she least expected it. Depending on their experience, they might have identified her as one of the older, and thus stronger, vampires still in existence. But what they certainly ignored, was the exact identity of her sire: count Dracula himself. Somewhere on a dusty archive shelf, Iscariot probably held her full dossier, but it probably hadn't been opened since at least half a century, maybe even more. Since they didn't have any information about her, there still was a chance that they would underestimate her. If that should happen, she might be able to make a quick escape without attracting any unwanted attention. A grim smile crossed her features as she envisioned them both as bloody stains on a back alley wall.

 **...**

One of her enemies had nearly reached her, the other lingering a bit further behind. When Clémence had felt his approach, she had deviated to deserted little streets. In retrospective, trying to avoid the confrontation seemed to be a bad idea. It would be better to be done with it quickly. When she finally reached an impasse, she turned around and waited for the first priest to appear. He soon came running to her, brown hair even more in disarray than before. The vampiress turned to face him, a smirk on her face. If that arrogant fool thought he could triumph in a fight against her with only a stake and a crucifix, then he was in for a surprise... One of the nasty kind.

He charged at her with a hoarse battle cry, ready to pierce her heart, but Clémence swiftly moved out of his way. She managed to land a forceful blow into his ribs. The priest let out a strangled "oomph", doubling over from the pain. Ignoring his weak attempt at retaliating, his opponent grabbed him by the arm and flung him against the opposite wall. His shoulder dislocated with a crunch and his head hit the bricks with a sickening crack. Clémence smiled. She would probably have the time to pulverize this arrogant cockroach before the other one arrived. Then she would also terminate him before returning home. She wondered if Amalia had gotten her job.

The vampiress turned to face her opponent. He was lying on the asphalt in a crumpled heap, watching her with vacant eyes. She readied herself to pounce on her weakened prey, expecting a quick and easy kill. What she hadn't expected was the horrid pain that pierced her body. Interrupted mid-flight, she fell hard on the ground. Pain seemed to be radiating from her whole body. A ragged cry of pain escaped her throat. It took all her strength to twist her body in a way that allowed her to look over her shoulder.

The blonde priest was standing upright on the very edge of a rooftop, a mad grin on his face and his black cassock catching the wind. Her eyes widened at the realization that she may have been the one to underestimate the enemy.


End file.
